


you can let yourself believe

by Helenish



Series: Here is a thing that isn't happening. [14]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M, underage mumble mumble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-11
Updated: 2011-02-11
Packaged: 2017-10-15 14:20:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/161677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helenish/pseuds/Helenish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur won’t lie to Eames, so he doesn’t say anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you can let yourself believe

**Author's Note:**

> This one contains references to rape and teenage prostitution and is generally irresponsible about both topics.

Arthur puts it off for longer than he should. He gets a big enough box of condoms that it won’t be noticeable that any are gone and puts it in the cabinet where they keep the towels. He puts some books below the shelf where Eames keeps Mal’s cookbooks, but he knows he can’t leave it for much longer. Lisa’s at the house some afternoons when he comes home. Eames borrows the car on weekends and gets in, but not too late; Lisa has a curfew. Arthur doesn’t ask what happens when he’s out of town.

"I've had sex," Eames says when Arthur finally catches him just after breakfast on Saturday and forces himself to say, "I want to talk to you about. sex."

"I know," Arthur says, keeping his voice even, because he hates to think about it, hates to remember the way Eames had tilted his body, licked his lower lip, that first day they met, so unlike the way he actually ever moves or looks, hates thinking about Eames pinned underneath some asshole or on his knees. Eames is staring at him, his hand wrapped calmly around his coffee mug. "I know you've had sex," Arthur says. "but it seems like you’re getting serious with--Lisa, and--"

"Use a condom," Eames says, helpfully.

"No," Arthur says. "I mean, yes, you should use a condom, but." He takes a breath. "Just. Don’t feel like you have to do anything if, if you don’t want to," he says. Eames nods, slowly, and Arthur pushes forward. "I know that it can sometimes feel like there are things you should want to do, but you should never feel like you have to or, or that there’s anything you have to prove--"

"Right, I know," Eames says. "We haven't even--"

"Okay," Arthur says, trying to keep the relief out of his voice. It’s insulting; Eames is older than he was when he started having sex.

"And--anything you do, you have to make sure she really wants to--to be there."

"Yeah," Eames says. "I know that."

"Right, but. things can get confusing," Arthur says. He looks down at the pale swirl of his coffee so he doesn’t have to look at Eames’ face. "People can say they want something when maybe they’re not so sure. Or--sometimes, if you really want something, you--you can let yourself believe that it’s okay, but--"

"So what you’re saying," Eames says, and something unfriendly and hurt in his voice makes Arthur lift his head, "is don’t rape anyone."

"It can be complicated--"

"It’s not so complicated," Eames says scornfully. "That’s what you think about me. That you need to tell me not to rape a girl."

"Eames," Arthur begins, but Eames says,

"Can I go now," and stands before Arthur can say anything else, pushing out of the kitchen. He’s in the front hallway before Arthur catches up.

"Wait," he says, but Eames is yanking on his coat, head down. "Eames, come on," Arthur says.

"What," Eames says, finally, voice flat.

"I’m sorry," Arthur says. They’re in the narrow entryway and he leans back against the wall, feeling defeated. "I’m sorry. I should never have said that. I know you would never do that."

"How do you know?" Eames says, fiddling with his cuffs, pulling them down. "Maybe I would."

"I know you," Arthur says. He touches the back of Eames’ hand, his chapped knuckles. "Will you accept my apology?" he says. It sounds too formal, stupid, but it makes Eames stop fidgeting and look up at him. Arthur waits, holding his gaze. Eames doesn’t say anything, eyes flickering across Arthur’s face, considering, and then he darts forward and presses his mouth against Arthur’s, feather-light, one hand softly cupping his jaw. It happens very quickly, a gentle, unassuming kiss, and Arthur doesn’t do anything, doesn’t respond, doesn’t open his mouth, can’t move back because he’s already pressed against the entryway wall, and then Eames is sliding down to his knees, his hands open on Arthur’s shoulders, his chest, wrapped around his hips, saying, "I want this, I do, please let me, I can--" He has his face pressed to the front of Arthur’s pants, his breath hot and wet through the thin wool before Arthur reacts, catching his hands and prying them off, sliding, half-falling down himself until he’s eye level with Eames, whose face is flushed red-hot, defiant. Arthur says the first thing that comes into his head, which is,

"I'm dating Holly."

Eames blinks, surprised. "Oh," he says. "So, if you weren’t--" his face lights in hope for one terrible moment, and Arthur’s stomach clenches, but he says,

"No. I’m sorry."

"My birthday--" Eames begins eagerly.

"No," Arthur says, as kindly as he can. "Not then, either."

"But I don’t--" Eames bursts out, and then takes a deep breath and starts again. "I know you f--date guys," he says. His mouth twists up a little when he sees Arthur’s face. "you’re teaching me to do research, right?" he says.

"Yeah," Arthur says. Eames shifts, sinks back against the opposite wall, his knees up.

"And you like me, like spending time with me, right?" he says, uncertainly. "You don’t--just because you have to, right?"

"No, of course not," Arthur says.

"And," Eames hesitates. "I know you don’t want me to know, but you--Arthur, you look at me. I know you want to, at least a little." Arthur won’t lie to Eames, so he doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t let himself look away. Eames swallows and says, "So I don’t, I don’t--I don’t understand why. I want to, and I could--you could do anything you wanted, and I’d. I know you would like it."

"Eames--" Arthur starts, but Eames cuts him off, words still tumbling out of his mouth.

"And it--it would just be you, I wouldn’t sleep around on you. I don’t cheat."

"I know that," Arthur says.

"But--is that why?" Eames says. "Because I’m--I did it with too many guys?"

"No," Arthur says.

"Because I took money for it," Eames says, so quietly that Arthur can barely hear him.

"No," Arthur says. "No," but Eames is staring at the floor, fists clenched, and Arthur kneels up and reaches for him, takes his face in his hands and says, "That is not why."

"But--"

"Never let anyone ever say that to you," Arthur says, voice shaking. "Never say that to yourself."

"But I did," Eames says, pulling away.

"I know what you did," Arthur says. "It doesn’t matter to me."

"But you don’t want--," Eames says.

"You are worth so much more than a--a fuck, to me," Arthur says, fumbling for words, hating how awkward and unprepared for this he is, how he can never get it right. "You are going to meet someone and fall in love and you’ll be so glad you didn’t do this, this way."

Eames shrugs, swipes at his face with the back of his hand.

"Come on, get up," Arthur says, standing, slowly. Eames lets him pull him to his feet. "I won’t let you waste yourself on me because you think you owe me," Arthur says to the back of his neck. Eames shakes his head.

"It’s not like that," he says.

"It is for me," Arthur says. He feels raw, scraped open. Eames jerks his head around to look at him.

"Okay," he says. He lifts his hand and gives Arthur’s shoulder a little pat, comforting, warm. "It’s okay," he says.


End file.
